


Close to the Truth

by hurt_mod, JosephineStone



Series: My Dark/Hurt fics [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurt_mod/pseuds/hurt_mod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is only trying to protect his family, but Harry gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to the Truth

Draco needed the dark artefacts gone more than he needed the money from their sales. The Aurors sniffed around the Manor as much as the court allowed them to, which became frequent after his father was released from Azkaban. If his father learned what he was doing, he'd probably disinherit him. Draco would definitely want the money then.

‘Very nice.’ The trader smiled looking through the loot Draco had brought him. He was clean-cut and dressed richer than Draco’s father. Draco kept his eyes on the man’s face, but concentrated on the movement of his hands; he trusted few people and anonymous dark artefacts traders were far from that list. ‘Very nice, Malfoy.’ 

Before the trader finished saying Draco’s surname, Draco grabbed for his wand. The first curse hit the man in the chest, freezing him in place. Draco’s laboured breath filled the silence of the room. Yes, his hair was noticeable, but thanks to the newspapers his face had become just as noteworthy. His palm began to sweat around the handle of his wand. The next spell he cast was a variation of _Obliviate_ that, instead of erasing the last few moments from the person’s mind, erased _him_. 

He grabbed the gold and turn to leave. His first spell would wear off and they both would go their separate ways. When questioned, or even if the memory was extracted by magic, there would be no identifying Draco. He’d done this half a dozen times by then. There was no reason for his heart to pound like it was, his hands to sweat like they were, nor his nerves to still be on edge. He turned back around and studied the frozen man. The man’s fingers twitched. Draco’s curse wouldn’t last much longer.

There was something about the way he’d said _Malfoy_ that bothered Draco.

Draco renewed the curse and the man’s fingers stopped twitching. He approached him slowly, and when he was sure his spell was holding, he searched the man’s pockets. It was in the third one he checked: an Auror’s badge. 

‘Shit,’ Draco said. If the spell worked, then _all_ of the Auror’s memories of Draco would be gone. Having an Auror who suddenly had no idea who _Draco Malfoy_ was after a meeting with a dark artefact seller—the Aurors were dense, but not _that_ dense. Draco sent a quick spell around the room to make sure they were alone. Of course, they were. Had the Auror's partner been in the room, Draco would have been in custody right then.

Taking a deep breath, Draco took hold of the Auror’s arm and Disapparated. He needed time to think up a plan, and the Auror was sure to have backup waiting outside. Sometimes Draco’s paranoia paid off. He had refused to meet unless he could Apparate in and out of their arranged drop off point. 

Draco lived in a small flat in London, although he visited his parents often. He laid the Auror out on the sofa and put him to sleep with another spell. He looked the man over as he tried to decide: ‘What the fuck am I going to do with you?’

He could kill him, except he’d never mastered that Unforgivable. Plus, that would put his crimes in a completely different league. No, he wasn’t a killer, and he had no plans to become one. He needed to _Obliviate_ enough of the man’s memory to ensure it wouldn’t point directly at Draco, but he had no idea how much that would be. He didn’t recognise the man. The Auror was either very new or using Polyjuice.

The Polyjuice Potion only lasted a few hours if it wasn't followed by another dose. He _could_ wait it out. If the Auror changed into someone he knew, then he could pinpoint how much of his memory he’d have to erase. If not, then he’d take a few years. His name didn’t start making it into the news, until the summer before his sixth year. That was only three years ago. Then once his memory was fixed, Draco would just leave him in an alley somewhere dazed.

Twenty minutes, later the Auror was convulsing on his sofa and his body returned to its natural state.

Draco’s stomach dropped.

It was Potter.

Bloody fucking Potter.

There was nothing for it; he’d have to erase it all. At least, until he went to Hogwarts, but that would be too telling. No, Draco had to erase it all. Draco cast the spell before he could talk himself out of it. His hands were shaking. He needed to be quick about it, or else he’d lose his nerve. He never wanted anything like this to happen. He didn’t even want to sell the stupid artefacts. He levitated Potter to make it look like he was standing. Then he took Potter's hand and Disapparated.

Draco didn’t know how to destroy the artefacts safely. He couldn’t risk an accident that brought the Aurors to his flat or the Manor, and he couldn’t just leave them there for the Aurors to find just because his father was a stubborn fool who refused to get rid of them himself. Most of the people who wanted them were like his father—collectors. They were never going to use them. They just wanted to have them.

He leaned Potter against the back of the building and helped him slide down into a sitting position. In quick succession he released his levitation charm, hit him with a spell to allow him to slowly wake up, and Disapparated before Potter could open his eyes. Then he walked down the street looking through shop windows as though it were any other day as he waited for Potter to emerge from the alley.

It was taking longer than Draco had anticipated, and an elderly witch was giving him a funny look, so he ducked into a shop pretending to buy something and not look so suspicious. He kept his eyes on the windows at the front of the shop as much as possible. It turned out to be a café, so he order a sandwich and then sat by the window. Potter was nowhere to be seen. 

Once he’d finished, Draco walked back toward the alley to see if perhaps Potter had Apparated away. If somehow he could still remember how to use magic, even though he probably didn’t remember there was such a thing. As he reached the corner he jumped; he'd almost ran right into Potter.

Potter stood, one hand on the wall, and stared blankly before him.

‘Potter,’ Draco said, ‘what are you doing?’

Potter blinked and squinted at Draco. ‘Do you know me?’

‘Of course, I know you.’ Draco rolled his eyes at him. ‘ _Everyone_ knows you.’ Then it hit Draco that, of course, his spell had worked! He took a step back, not wanting to be so close to Potter and have anyone see them together. ‘Well, good day. I should be on my way.’

Draco stepped around him, and took a couple steps before Potter grabbed him.

‘You can’t just leave me here.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because . . .’ Potter looked around him, clearly not aware of where here was. He looked over Draco’s face as if he was taking in his age, and Draco saw the moment it clicked in Potter’s brain that he was looking at someone close to his own age.

Finally Potter spoke again, ‘I don’t know who I am.’

Though Draco didn’t know why he said it, but he responded with, ‘We’re not _friends_ , Potter.’

‘But . . . ’ Potter seemed confused. ‘You know who I am.’

Draco almost repeated that _everyone knew who he was_ , but Potter was going from confused to angry. Potter angry was dangerous for Draco, so he sighed and said, ‘Fine. I’ll help you get to St Mungo’s, but that’s it.’

Potter looked relieved and fell in step next to Draco as he led the way. ‘Wait,’ Potter said. ‘What’s St Mungo’s?’

‘It’s the hospital, of course.’ Draco tapped his head. ‘To help you with your memory problem.’ There was no reason to point out that there was nothing the hospital could really _do_ for said problem, and everyone knew that. It was still where one went when they’d lost all their memories. They would contact his family—well, in Potter’s case, his friends—and help him move on with his life without the memories he was missing.

It should have been obvious with Potter not knowing who he was, but Draco wanted to make sure. ‘What _do_ you remember?’ 

Draco saw him furrow his brows in concentration, and then he shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Yet, you can walk and talk.’

‘Do you remember learning how to walk and talk?’

‘Well, no.’ Draco mumbled to himself, ‘That must in a different part of one’s brain function.’ He’d never thought too much about how the memory charms worked. He only studied the parts that he needed to use. Draco looked around the street and tried to see it as Potter was. He didn’t seem to be confused by any of it. Even when owls flew past or one of the children’s toys floated above them.

Draco had seen Granger’s parents look at their world in awe when they’d been there. But Potter didn’t look surprised or interested in any of it. He looked, well more lost in his own thoughts. Would Potter relearn their world like a child did? Draco had seen magic since before he could remember. Though, he must have had an “everything is amazing” phase as a toddler, he didn’t remember it.

‘Is that it?’ Potter pointed ahead of them.

Draco nodded. ‘Yes, do you remember it?’

Potter thought for a moment. ‘No, it just _looks_ like a hospital, I think.’

‘But, without any memories, how do you know what a hospital looks like?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Potter said, shrugging. ‘I just know.’

Something twisted in Draco’s stomach at the thought of all the things Potter might _just know_. ‘Well.’ He gestured toward the building. ‘There you are.’ He turned to try and leave, but Potter grabbed his arm again.

‘Wait!’ He had a panicked look on his face. ‘Aren’t you going to take me in?’

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see this continuing much farther than safe for him, but turned back around to lead Potter into the hospital. And then didn’t attempt to leave him again, because he wouldn’t know where to go once inside. He wouldn’t know how to go about getting to the right department, checking himself in, or being bombarded by _fans_. 

Potter wouldn’t understand why he even _had_ fans.

#

Draco kept telling himself that he’d leave in a moment, but every time he tried, Potter asked him to stay. He didn’t know why he kept staying. Once Weasley had a wand pointed at his head, Draco knew he’d stayed much too long. Potter jumped in between them, but thankfully didn’t shove Weasley away. It was bad enough as it was without him getting into a physical fight with his best mate over—the person who’d just ruined his life.

‘Harry, what are you doing?’ Granger pulled Weasley farther back as she glared at Potter.

Potter seemed frozen again, trying to puzzle out who the people in front of him were and why they’d tried to harm Draco. So Draco being the idiot he was said, ‘Potter’s lost his memory.’

They both turned their glares toward Draco then, and to show they weren’t intimidating him he continued, ‘All of it. He doesn’t even know who _he_ is; he doesn’t remember you, and he didn’t remember me. I found him when he nearly knocked me over coming out of an alley.’

‘Don’t you find it a little _convenient_ that you—’ Weasley didn’t get to finish his thought, because Potter had wrapped his arms around him in a tight . . . hug. Weasley was stunned for a moment and then hugged back. A second later Potter did the same to Hermione, who almost started crying; though Draco couldn’t tell if it was from emotion or the need to breathe.

When Potter let go and she asked, ‘How did you know?’ Draco decided the tears must have been from emotion and then he couldn’t stand to look at the three of them anymore. He stared at the door wondering if he could sneak out without Potter noticing.

‘I could feel it,’ Potter said, and another chill ran through Draco. ‘I just knew I could trust you. That you are my friends. And not just because you say so, or the Healers said so . . . but something else. You’re familiar.’ 

Draco almost asked what he felt like to Potter, but both Weasley and Granger looked at Draco then and he didn’t like the expressions on their faces. He almost wished for the glares to return. The glares were familiar; expected. 

‘Well,’ Draco said. ‘Your friends are here, you’re in good hands, so I’m going to go.’

Potter looked up, his eyes looked fearful again like they had right before he’d told Draco he didn’t know who he was, but he seemed to know he had no reason to make Draco stay any longer. So Potter didn’t say anything and let him go. 

Draco had trouble breathing, until he was on the street again. 

He Apparated home on the spot.

#

It was Sunday, which meant dinner with his parents. It meant pushing wine on both of them to make sure they were tired and slept well. It meant searching the manor for more Dark Artefacts.

‘I don’t see why you can’t _clear your head_ and _figure out your life_ at home, Draco.’

It also meant listening to his mother complain about him moving out of the manor. Draco said nothing, because _you drive me bleeding mental_ was not something someone said to their mother, no matter how true the statement was. They let the subject drop. Luckily, his mother drank more when she was irritated with him.

A moment later, a house-elf popped up beside her. He announced a guest was waiting in the sitting room. She frowned at the news; it was bad manners to come calling during the dinner hour.

‘A Mr Harry Potter,’ the elf said.

Draco choked on his wine. ‘I’ll go,’ he said as he recovered his breath. Draco didn’t look at either of his parents as he rushed out of the dining room.

Potter smiled when he saw him, and Draco’s stomach clenched.

‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Potter said quickly. ‘I just—have nothing to go on but my instincts, and my instincts keep telling me to . . . .’

Draco couldn’t breathe. ‘To what?’ 

‘To come to you.’

‘What are you expecting me to do?’ 

Potter shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He walked closer to Draco, who was frozen waiting for Potter to figure him out. Potter said, ‘It’s just a feeling.’ Then Potter was right next to Draco, and Draco could feel Potter’s breath on his face. ‘Like there is more to us that my friends don’t know.’

‘I’m sure they’ve told you everything you need to know about us. We’re not friends.’

‘We’re more than that,’ Potter said completely certain of it. ‘They don’t know. I understand why they wouldn’t know. They’ve explained everything they could about my life.’

Then Potter was kissing him. 

Everything inside Draco told him that it was a bad idea. He needed to push Potter away. But everyone loved Potter. If Potter loved him, then he could protect him. His image in Wizarding Society would be restored, and most importantly, the Aurors would back away from his family.

It was rare for such opportunities to fall into Draco’s lap. So Draco kissed Potter back.

Potter pulled him closer and kissed him as though he was dying of thirst and Draco was the last bit of water left. Draco let himself enjoy it; it had been so long since anyone had touched him. Then he heard his mother clearing her throat behind him, and shoved Potter away as he turned to face her and tried to say, ‘It’s not what it looks like,’ but his words were drowned out by hers:

‘Is this why you refuse to come home?’

Potter moved to stand in between them as though to protect Draco from his mother; although, she was all the way across the room from him. And, of course, his mother. She’d never harm him. He hoped. Draco moved around Potter’s rigid form to face his mother.

‘No,’ Draco said, ‘this is nothing.’ He choked on the nothing which just ended up reinforcing both his mother’s and Potter’s belief that there was certainly _something_ going on between the two of them.

‘I will not have this, Draco.’ She crossed her arms across her chest. ‘After everything I’ve done for you.’ She covered her mouth as though she was about to cry; it was fake. She always did that to guilt trip him into doing whatever she wanted him to. If he could only explain it to her, he knew she’d understand. But he couldn’t—not completely at least—in front of Potter.

Draco chose his words carefully. ‘If any man—’

His mother held up her hand to cut him off. ‘I know where you are going this.’ She glared at Potter. ‘If I was going to allow you to be with any man, Potter would be a more than suitable choice.’

Potter finally spoke. ‘Allow?’

Draco inwardly cursed his mother. She was playing right into the story that Potter had come up with. That they were in some sort of secret relationship.It was good and bad at the same time. Draco had, he really had, planned on setting Potter straight. They’d never been anything to each other. That didn’t mean that couldn’t _change_. She just gave Potter the perfect reason for why Draco would have wanted to keep them a secret.

Draco’s mother ignored Potter. ‘I had no intention of letting you court any man.’

‘Why not?’ Draco asked, honestly confused. ‘You’ve never cared about it before.’

‘We need you to have children.’

Draco rolled his eyes.

‘Don’t. I don’t care what you get up to once you’re married, but no one will entertain the idea of uniting our families if _this_ is known. I can’t allow it. If you’d had siblings . . .’

He didn’t know why, or when, children became so important to her. He tried to plead with his eyes for her to just listen to him, but she wouldn’t look at him. They didn’t need children; they needed a strong alliance with someone well respected. Potter could give them that.

‘If you choose to continue this,’ she said, ‘then don’t bother returning.’

‘What are you saying?’ It couldn’t be real. She wouldn’t disown him.

‘And you’d better look for a job.’ 

‘You can’t be serious!’ Potter said. ‘You risked your life for him. How could you want anything except happiness for him?’

Draco had almost forgotten that Potter was there, and hadn’t notice how angry their conversation was making him. He wondered how much his friends had told Potter about them; how much they knew to tell.

‘I want what is best for him.’ She stared hard at Potter. ‘Following your loins hardly makes for the best decision making.’ She looked back at Draco. ‘I’ll be in the dining room with your father, waiting for you to make the _right_ decision.’

He watched her and was only barely aware of Potter talking to him. ‘You don’t have to worry about money, Draco. I have plenty of money.’

There was a slight smirk on her lips as she turned to leave the sitting room. It was out of place, and then it hit Draco. She must have heard them talking before she interrupted them. That Potter was convinced they’d been together, and that Draco was denying it. He nodded in response to Potter as he stared at the place where his mother had just left.

He didn’t really need money, not yet. He still had plenty stored away from all his Dark Artefact sales. He explained that he had a place in London and some money his parents didn’t know about. Potter’s anger dissipated at that.

‘Does that mean that you’re not going back to dinner?’

‘No, I won’t be returning to dinner.’

Draco didn’t think about how risky it might be to bring Potter to his flat, until Potter sat on his sofa and mentioned it felt familiar. He didn’t have solid memories, and Draco was confident in his abilities that they couldn’t come back, but he hadn’t anticipated how much Potter could get by on following his instincts; even if they were completely wrong about Draco. 

He made them both a drink, and as he handed Potter his, Potter asked, ‘Did we have a fight?’

He was trying to put the pieces together. If they were together, why had Draco been so distant the day they’d run into each other? There were so many questions that Draco didn’t have good answers to. Not without telling the truth. Staying as close to the truth as possible was his best bet.

‘I told you—your friends told you—that we weren’t friends.’

Potter brushed a bit of hair off Draco’s cheek and tucked it behind his ear. Draco never pictured Potter as such a touchy feely type. How could he be so comfortable with touching Draco when he had no memories of him?

‘We were never together.’ There he’d said it. ‘I hadn’t even seen you since school.’ 

This didn’t deter Potter. He shifted closer to Draco on the sofa.

‘How can you do that?’ Draco asked.

‘Do what?’

‘Be so comfortable touching me.’

‘I told you; you’re familiar.’

‘Do you touch everyone you feel you knew before like this?’ 

Potter laughed. ‘Of course not. I feel like we’ve done this many times before.’

‘But I just told you: we _haven’t _.’__

__‘And yet you aren’t pushing me away.’ Potter thought for a moment before continuing. ‘The Healers said I shouldn’t put so much faith in my feelings. I can’t differentiate between what is real and what would have been all in my head. They said, we can’t control how we feel without logic to put situations in perspective. I have all the feelings, the instincts, but I have none of the logic without my memories.’_ _

__Draco couldn’t believe that Potter had harbored a hidden torch for him all these years. It had to be something else. Potter kissed him again._ _

__Auror training had been good to Potter. Admittedly, Draco didn’t know what Potter’s body was like prior to the training, but he could feel his muscles through his clothes as Potter gently pushed him back to lay across the sofa. He was lean, not over built. Just as he was thinking he wanted Potter to lose his shirt, he felt Potter’s hand go to unbutton his trousers._ _

__‘Too fast,’ Draco said, pushing Potter back. ‘Too fast.’_ _

__‘Sorry.’ Potter pulled back, but didn’t get off Draco. ‘I just feel like I can’t be close enough to you.’_ _

__Draco closed his eyes and tried to settle his stomach by taking deep breaths. Part of Potter was telling him to follow Draco, because he knew that Draco was the one to cast the spell. He was simply misinterpreting his feelings. He couldn’t “get close enough” because he wanted to arrest him not make love to him._ _

__‘I didn’t mean to push you.’_ _

__Suddenly, Draco wanted to hit him. Why did Potter have to be so _reasonable_? Draco wasn’t a stranger to one night stands; he shouldn’t be having any problem with having sex with Potter then. If his planned worked, they’d have to eventually. He wanted to. Right then even. He was hard and could really use the stress relief._ _

__‘It’s fine,’ Draco said. ‘You didn’t push me.’ He leaned up to kiss Potter lightly on the lips. It was the first time he’d kissed Potter instead of just following along with where Potter directed them, and Draco didn’t like the chill that went through him as their lips touched._ _

__Potter watched him for a second before he lay back on him and hid his face in Draco’s neck. ‘Do you have any idea how good you smell?’_ _

__Draco’s breath wavered._ _

__‘I recognise this smell. I’ve—’ Potter cut off as he thought of the right word. He pulled himself up to look down at Draco. ‘Missed it.’ He searched Draco’s face before he asked, ‘We really haven’t seen each other since school?’_ _

__‘I told you.’ Draco waited, nervous he’d figure out more, or perhaps feel more that would give Draco’s intentions away._ _

__Potter sat back and they both got themselves under control while Potter told him about everything that had happened since he left Potter with his friends at St Mungo’s. He found out that he was an Auror and he’d been undercover on a case. Draco didn’t press for details on that. Then he went home with Weasley and Granger, and even though he had his own house. he was staying with them until he was to become more acclimated with his surroundings._ _

__The Aurors had someone from the Department of Mysteries working on trying to fix Potter’s memory. So during his “workday,” he went in to have some bloke throw spells at his head in the mornings, and then in the afternoons he had to redo his previous training._ _

__Draco tried to sound supportive, but not too interested in Potter’s progress. ‘Is it working?’_ _

__‘Nothing yet. Well, no memories. I learned how to use my wand pretty quickly though. They are confident that even if I don’t recover my memories, I _can_ relearn everything. It’s coming back fast.’_ _

__‘That’s good,’ Draco said, because what else was there to say? Thank Merlin he could move on with his life without finding out that Draco was the one to take it? ‘What all have you learned so far?’_ _

__‘Just little things.’ Potter cast a _Lumos_ to show him._ _

__Draco showed him a summoning charm and after a couple tries, Potter was able to do it. His innate abilities were returning swiftly. Maybe the Aurors will be satisfied that that was all he needed._ _

____

#

Draco was surprised at how quickly being with Potter worked to his advantage. After being seen out to dinner with him only twice, Draco began to get owls from places he’d applied for jobs but hadn’t heard from. He hadn’t applied to any apprenticeships in over a year by then.

Potter kissed his neck and then asked, ‘Which one do you like the most?’

They were in the bath at Potter's house. He’d been allowed to move back in after a month. He was perfectly comfortable in his surroundings, he’d told his friends. Really it was more that he wanted to get Draco naked as much as possible, and his friends didn’t like how much time he spent at Draco’s flat. Draco didn’t see why they were more comfortable with him in Potter’s house.

‘I don’t know. Unspeakable, maybe?’ Wouldn’t that be a lark? From being shunned to working in one of the most respected positions in the Ministry. All while being a criminal. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on Potter’s hands. Potter really couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

‘You don’t have to work, you know?’ Potter entwined their fingers on the edge of the tub. ‘I could take care of you.’

Draco laughed. ‘Are you afraid I’ll leave you once I have my own source of income? Do I need to remind you that I _had_ plenty of money before you barged into my parents’ house? If money was all I wanted, then I could simply go back.’

‘What do you want then?’

‘What? From you?’

‘Yes.’

Draco pulled Potter’s arms around him and leaned back against his chest. ‘I like this.’

‘Just like?’ Potter paused, waiting for Draco to say something. When he didn’t, Potter whispered, ‘I love you.’

Draco went ridged. Potter was far too impulsive of a person. He kept Draco’s nerves constantly on edge.

‘Potter...’ 

‘Please, don’t pull away, Draco.’ Potter tightened his arms around him. ‘You don’t have to say it back.’

He really should start thinking of him as Harry.

#

Draco began to spend more and more time at Harry’s house. After lots of debate, Draco did settle on training for the Unspeakables. It was probably a stupid choice. When Harry figured him out—if he corrected himself—there’d be no way he’d be able to keep his job. Though, he’d be in Azkaban then, and it wouldn't matter what he'd decided on.

After he started training, Draco wrote to his mother. She wouldn’t want to keep up this charade forever, and him getting a respectable job seemed like a good time to have her change her mind about the whole thing.

Since both of their days ended at the same time, they’d met on their way out of the Ministry. In the beginning, Harry took Draco out to eat almost everyday. But neither of them liked how all eyes followed them wherever they went, and Draco told him shortly after getting his apprenticeship that he really prefered at to eat at home. So Harry began to cook for him.

‘I remembered something about you today.’

‘Good or bad?’

It was more often than not bad, but Harry didn’t look angry so he hoped it was something good. Not that there was much good for Harry to remember about Draco. His previous good ones had all been about watching Draco eat in the Great Hall. When he shared things like that, it was almost believable that Harry had liked him for a long time.

‘Bad.’ 

Of course. Harry cooked while he talked. Draco liked to watch him cook. 

Harry continued, ‘I remembered how obsessed I was with figuring out whether or not you had the Dark Mark in our sixth year. I remembered watching you crying in a bathroom.’

‘Is that all?’

‘I remembered a bit after that as well.’

‘There are some things I’d rather you didn’t remember.’

Harry filled their plates with salmon and roasted vegetables, and then Draco could see that though Harry hadn’t been angry with something Draco had done in the past, he was upset.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that I was the one to give you those scars?’

‘I told you the truth: that you wouldn’t like the story.’ Draco felt too guilty for what he was doing to Harry _then_ for him to be able to watch Harry guilt trip himself about their past. 

Harry brought Draco’s hand to his lips and stared into his eyes. Draco could see the question in Harry’s eyes: did Draco love him? Draco opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. It was too dangerous. Harry was remembering too much. He’d hate him when he found out, and Draco couldn’t say those words without Harry knowing the truth.

‘Let’s eat,’ Draco said.

#

Harry wasn’t waiting for Draco at the Ministry and when he’d gone to the Auror department to find him, they’d said he’d already left. So Draco went home—no, he went to Harry’s house—to wait for him. It was getting dark before Draco heard Harry at the front door.

‘What’s wrong?’ Draco asked as Harry came through the door. He could tell from the slump of his shoulders and his downcast eyes, that something was.

‘You know,’ Harry said as he glared at Draco. ‘You know what’s wrong.’

Draco feared the worst; that he knew everything, but there were too many things Harry could have remembered that would hurt him. They’d been through a few already. He could have figured out Draco was using him to help his family, to help himself in this post war world. Draco couldn’t apologise for something without knowing what he needed to apologise for. 

He tried to pretend that there wasn’t anything so dire as to pull them apart and he walked toward Harry. When he got close enough, Harry grabbed him, shoved him against the doorway to the sitting room, and kissed him. It was one that said: I can never get enough of you. That encouraged Draco and he kissed back. He didn’t know everything, not yet.

Draco pushed back just enough to get out of the doorway and led Harry down the hall to their bedroom. Harry pushed him back on the bed, kissing him and tearing off his clothes. Harry was still angry. Draco could feel it in how tight Harry held him and how rough he moved Draco around on the bed. How hard Harry thrust into him once they got their clothes off. How Harry shook when he said, ‘I love you,’ when he started to come. And how he didn’t acknowledge Draco’s, ‘I love you, too.’

It was cold. Even covered in sweat, Draco was cold as he waited for Harry to speak again.

‘Get out.’

‘What?’ Draco had expected an explanation or at least an accusation. He must have remembered everything.

‘Get out of my house.’

He should've been thankful that Harry didn’t arrest him right then. Sending him away meant Draco had time to gather his things and run. He had things all over Harry’s house. Clothes in the closet, shampoo in the bathroom, a mug in the kitchen. Draco didn’t want to push Harry into changing his mind about arresting him, so he left it all.

Draco Apparated to his flat, but he didn’t start packing. It wasn’t until the sun came up the next morning that he accepted he wouldn’t be leaving at all, that he was waiting.

#

On Monday morning, Draco went in to work. His boss could tell he was on edge, but all Draco would say was that he and Harry had a fight. This seemed to be enough of an explanation. He didn’t seek Harry out, but they ran into each other at the end of the day, anyway.

They were alone in the lift and though Draco knew he should keep his mouth shut, he had to know.

‘You didn’t turn me in?’

Harry clenched his jaw and refused to look at Draco. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why.’

Draco groaned. ‘I hate that; if I knew why, I wouldn’t ask. I should just _know_? I can’t read your mind.’ Draco crossed his arms and looked away from Harry.

‘I still love you!’

That shut Draco up. He hadn’t thought that was a possibility. Surely Harry would hate him. 

‘I remember everything now.’ Harry ran his hands through his hair. ‘But I still love you. What you did was stupid and selfish.’ He laughed. ‘But that’s you, though, isn’t it?’

‘Hey.’

‘I wanted you, I've wanted you for a long time. Even though there was so much I hated about you. I was always trying to catch you, but without my memories masking my feelings I finally figured out why. And even with everything back, I still love you.’

Draco looked back at Harry to see he was glaring at him.

‘Are you still selling?’

‘Of course, not!’ There was so much left, but his mother hadn’t allowed him back in the manor for so long and once news of Harry and him hit the papers the Aurors quit looking for reasons to come around. Draco didn’t need to sell off any more of them.

‘What did you need the money for?’

‘I didn’t need the money. I needed to protect my parents.’ 

The lift doors opened, forcing them out into the world. Everyone was used to seeing them together and greeted them as they walked to the exit. To all the world, nothing had changed. They could walk out together, go to Harry’s, and nothing had to change. Draco’s thoughts hovered, but he couldn’t force them out. Harry was sure to shoot them down.

They were outside before Harry spoke again. 

‘Did you mean it?’

He still couldn’t get himself to speak.

‘Or were you just trying to save yourself again?’ Harry waited a beat. ‘I’m not going to turn you in, unless you start it back up again. I can’t allow you to continue selling illegal items, but what’s done is done.’

‘I won’t sell anymore.’ Draco kept his voice quiet; although they were on a Muggle street with no one paying them any attention, nor near enough to overhear them.

‘I need to know if you meant it,’ Harry said. 

Draco nodded. They were quiet for a while before Draco spoke again. ‘I never meant to hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘You took away my entire life!’

‘I’m sorry.’ He hadn't been thinking. He’d become so used to reacting as quickly as possible throughout the war. Erasing a little bit of someone’s memory was so common that Draco thought nothing of it. He knew it was wrong to erase everything, though. He knew that. ‘Do you think . . . that would be possible for you to . . . forgive me?’

‘Why do you care?’

Draco felt that Harry wasn’t being fair. He knew why Draco cared.

‘I _just_ told you that I meant it.’

‘Maybe I need you to say it again.’

Draco’s eyes met Harry’s, which were filled with hurt. 

‘I love you,’ Draco said, simply. As though he said it everyday, and Harry should know it.

Harry nodded. ‘Are you hungry?’

Draco looked at him in surprise. At an attempt to be bold Draco leaned towards Harry to kiss him, but Harry pulled back.

‘Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m still very pissed off at you. But I’ve had time to think about it, and what do you _still_ have to gain by staying with me? If you really love me, then I want you to stay. If you didn’t, you have your chance to be free.’

‘I don’t want to be free of you.’ Draco smiled. ‘I haven’t in a long time.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment for the author here or on LIVEJOURNAL ♥


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